


Sometimes, It's More Than I Can Take

by leyley09



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Overreacting is totally a mature adult way to react to someone's twitter posts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5134925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leyley09/pseuds/leyley09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Figuring out you're in love with your best friend is surprisingly stressful.</p><p>Particularly when he keeps putting stuff on the internet that makes you want to punch things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because this happened - https://twitter.com/tseguinofficial/status/653292268024008705 - and NO ONE was doing anything about it. So I decided to stop whining about that and "write the fic I'd like to see in the world". 
> 
> Hand-waving the existence of other people who would complicate this, well, because I can and because it's easier than figuring out how to remove them. :)
> 
> Title from "Tight Pants" by Buckcherry because I will, if possible, always go for the obvious joke.

 

 

“ ‘Why are your pants so tight’, what the fucking hell. Because they’re fucking football pants, Tyler, just like everybody else’s on the fucking football field.”

“Dude, are you talking to your refrigerator?” Jordie should probably be more surprised to hear his brother snarking into the open refrigerator, but this is the third time he’s heard this particular rant since that tweet hit the internet a few hours ago. At least, this time, there aren’t a bunch of random football employees and players overhearing it.

“No, I’m not talking to my refrigerator.” The refrigerator door slams shut. A few cabinets bang open and closed, and what sounds like a nice frying pan clangs onto the counter. “I should maybe _start_ talking to my refrigerator. It’s less likely to put stupid things on the internet!” The rising volume of Jamie’s voice finally prompts Jordie up off the sofa and into the kitchen.

The kitchen is, to put it nicely, a bit of a mess. Jamie’s clearly been slamming everything onto the counter, based on the slight dent at the bottom of the milk jug and the pieces of pasta spread out like confetti all over the floor. Half the cabinets are open for no apparent reason, and most of the dishes on the counter are the wrong way up. Jamie is braced against the counter’s edge, leaning over the sink. It takes a second for Jordie to realize he’s doing some kind of breathing-relaxation thing in a very late attempt to get ahold of himself (hopefully before he sets something on fire).

“Jamie, man, it was a joke. You were there after, you saw them laughing about it. And I _know_ that you know Segs has said stupider things on the internet. Hell, _you’ve_ said stupider things on the internet. So what. the hell. is the problem?”

“There isn’t a problem.” Jordie loves his brother, but right now he sounds like a whiny eight-year old.

“Bullshit. Ninety-nine percent of the time when Segs says something you think is stupid, you roll your eyes, maybe sigh a bit like you have it so rough. You don’t destroy your own kitchen and yell at your refrigerator. So, again, what the hell is the problem?”

“I, I don’t- I don’t know.” Ding, ding, ding; that’s finally an honest answer. It’s still sort of bullshit, as far as Jordie’s concerned, but whatever Jamie needs to tell himself. Jordie’s a good enough older brother to let that slide for the time being.

“Dude, if you don’t have a problem, then maybe you should apologize to the refrigerator while you clean up your kitchen.”

Jamie grumbles a bit as he reaches for the broom. God, this is getting old.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Morning skate is a bit awkward the next day. Tyler has no idea that he’s in trouble, so he keeps skating up to Jamie like it’s any other Monday, goofing off and chattering away. Jamie’s answers get shorter and sharper until the last one finally makes his point. Jamie skates off towards another group of players; Tyler looks like he’s taken a puck to the head.

Jordie really does not want to deal with this shit.

By the time they’re all dismissed, Tyler looks like he’s going to cry if someone so much as breathes in his direction. It’s surprisingly tactful that no one says anything directly to him while they’re peeling out of their gear.

However, the tact wears off the second the door to the showers swings shut behind him; Jamie immediately gets pelted with haphazard balls of stick tape.

“Okay jackass” - and wow, Jason’s pulling no punches here - “what the hell did Tyler do in the 18 hours since we saw you both last? Because he better have flown to BC and knocked up your sister. If not, you are _way_ overreacting.” General murmuring around the room seems to support that opinion.

“Everything is fine, you can all fuck right off.” Jamie’s going with petulant child again today. His words are undermined by the way he’s throwing his gear into his stall and straight up pouting.

“Bullshit.” Everyone turns to look at Spezza, who’s headed for the showers as well. He pauses to point at Jamie. “We can’t have you two fighting like this; it’ll fuck everything up, and the season’s just started. Fix this before the game tomorrow, or there will be consequences, Chubbs.”

He walks off into the showers, passing Tyler on his way through the door. Everyone in the room is suddenly looking at anything else, but the quietness is still suspicious. If Tyler notices, he doesn’t say anything. He throws on his clothes with near record-breaking speed, not looking at or speaking to anyone in his haste. When the door to the hall shuts behind him a moment later, many a judgmental gaze is trained on Jamie as everyone else heads off to shower.

Jordie sits for a minute on the bench in front of his stall, just thinking. He didn’t - and still doesn’t - want to get in the middle of this. Jamie’s a grown up, and he can figure out his own mind and clean up his own messes. But the team might not have time for Jamie to figure this out by himself, since he hasn’t already. Their play isn’t reflecting this yet, but dragging it out is only asking for problems.

The tricky part now is figuring out how to fix it. Jordie can’t think of a way to get Jamie and Tyler both to apologize without explaining the problem, so that’s unfortunately out; that means Jordie’s going to have to talk to Tyler. He can’t make Jamie admit he has feelings for Tyler if there’s only a snowball’s chance in hell that Tyler feels the same way. Jordie’s pretty sure that’s not the case, but pretty sure is not an acceptable amount where his little brother’s heart is concerned.

This is not how he wanted to spend his afternoon.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Not being the favored Benn brother, Jordie doesn’t have his own key to Tyler’s house, which means he has to knock at the front door and hope Tyler will let him in. Based on the barking dogs and the footsteps behind the door, there’s a possibility he won’t. Jordie waits patiently though; this is important.

Eventually, Tyler opens the door. Jordie slips through quickly, just to keep the dogs in the house. Tyler looks absolutely dejected. He shuffles back down the hall towards the living room and flops onto one end of the sofa. Jordie takes one of the recliners across the room, perching awkwardly on the edge of the seat. They sit in awkward silence for several minutes longer than Jordie thought Tyler was capable of being quiet.

“What did I do to Jamie?” Tyler’s voice is so small. Jordie sort of wants to hug him.

“You didn’t do anything _to_ Jamie, Segs. He’s upset about something that you did, yes, but you didn’t do anything to him directly. That’s kind of why I’m here. I need to ask you a really personal question before I can help you fix this.”

“Anything, Jordie, I mean it.” Just the idea that this can be fixed is apparently enough to motivate Tyler into movement. He’s leaning forward now, face full of earnestness and sincerity. Jordie’s little brother is _such_ a moron.

“Segs, are you at all interested in, uh, maybe, being more than, uh, ‘just friends’ with Jamie?”

Tyler’s not having a great day for photogenic facial expressions. Puck to the head earlier, and now, well, now he looks a little like someone’s punched him right in the solar plexus. He’s not quite wheezing, but Jordie’s starting to get concerned. “Tyler, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh.” Tyler blinks a couple times, shakes his head as if to clear water from his ears. He looks away from Jordie, out the window to his left, for a long moment. When he turns back to look Jordie in the eye, he looks much more serious. “Yeah, Jordie, I’d be interested in that. I’d be _so_   fucking interested in that.” He takes a very shaky breath. “Can you explain what’s going on now?”

Jordie slumps back into the recliner, surprisingly swamped with relief. “Yeah, man, I can explain.” He chuckles a bit. “Jamie’s all bent out of shape about your tweet to Edelman yesterday.”

“Why? It was totally tame,” Tyler frowns.

“I’m pretty sure he’s just upset that you were looking at someone else’s ass, but I’m not sure if _he’s_ realized that’s why he’s upset. He didn’t seem to know last night when he was throwing things around his kitchen.”

Tyler gapes at him again. “He was throwing things around the kitchen?”

“And shouting abuse at the refrigerator.”

“Shouting abuse - wait, what do mean ‘someone else’s ass’?”

Heaven save Jordie from oblivious people, jesus christ.

“I mean, I think he’d rather you were only looking at his. He hasn’t admitted that to me, okay, it’s just a suspicion right now. I just needed to know where you stood before I got his hopes up, you know?”

“Less worried about my hopes?” Tyler’s smiling, so Jordie figures he understands.

“Sorry, buddy, you do fall behind my brother in my list of people to be worried about,” Jordie grins back. “If it’s okay with you though, I think I’m going to go by Jamie’s and have a chat with him. He got team-lectured while you were in the shower, but it’s my turn.”

“Are you going to tell him, uh, about me?”

“Not if I don’t have to. He really should hear it from you. I’ll just be a lot more confident about my ‘suspicions’ than I would have been an hour ago.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jordie doesn’t even have his truck started when his phone rings, “Jamie” blinking at him from the screen.

“Hey little brother, what’s up?”

“I have a problem. Can you come over here?”

“Lucky for you, I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in just a couple minutes.”

“Good.” The calls cuts off. Jordie can’t believe Jamie hung up on him; now he’s actually worried.

Fortunately, it only takes a couple of minutes to get to Jamie’s place. Jamie’s got a bad habit of leaving his door unlocked, so it takes no time at all to find him face-planted into his sofa.

“Jamie, are you alright?”

“Yes.” Well, Jordie thinks that was a ‘yes’. It’s hard to tell when the word is being spoken directly into a cushion.

“Can you even breathe like that, Chubbs?”

Jamie rolls his head slightly to the side, so he’s facing the back of the sofa instead. “Not really, but that’s okay.”

Um, no. Just no.

“Dude, I hate to break it to you, but if you stop breathing, you automatically forfeit all of your life goals. They don’t give Cups to people posthumously.”

“Ugh.”

“Okay, _you_ called _me_ in a panic, Jamie, so you really need to give me something to work with here.”

“Ahinkahminovitheyer.”

If Jordie could roll his eyes any harder, he would. He would probably also sprain something, and that’s not an upper body injury he wants to explain to the trainers.

“Jamie, don’t make me smother you in your own sofa. That’ll just be embarrassing for both of us. Could you _please_ sit up and talk to me like a regular human being?”

It is clearly with great reluctance that Jamie pushes himself into a mostly upright position. He’s not looking at Jordie, yet, but at least he’s not breathing through upholstery anymore. Jamie sighs, dramatically, before mumbling at the floor, “I think I’m in love with Tyler.”

Jordie takes a seat on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He sits in silence for a couple of minutes, debating how to respond to that. Older sibling fashion wins out in the end.

“Yeah, duh. That’s like only news to you, moron. Is that seriously why you’re trying to suffocate yourself in your furniture?”

Jamie’s head shoots up, allowing him to make horrified eye contact with Jordie. “WHAT?!”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? The only person who doesn’t already know that about you, Chubbs, is Tyler, and that’s because he’s an idiot. For fuck’s sake, Jamie, Razor called him your ‘soulmate’ ON THE AIR Thursday night.”

“HE DID WHAT?! How do you know that?”

“Never mind that right now. More important is what are you going to do about this.”

“I was sort of thinking….absolutely nothing. Like, maybe we could just pretend we never had this conversation, and maybe I’ll just ignore it. It might go away, right?”

Jordie’s brother has definitely regressed to early childhood in the last forty-eight hours. There’s no other good explanation for why he’s being this stupid right now.

“Hate to break it to you, Chubbs, but I’m pretty sure it’s not going to go away, or it would have already.”

“Already?”

“Yes, ‘already’, jesus.” Jordie rolls his eyes. “Jamie, I’ve been waiting for you to bring this up since about ten minutes after you met Marshall for the first time and decided you wanted to be a step-dog-parent. And don’t even try to pretend that didn’t go down like that,” Jordie said, talking louder to drown out Jamie’s attempts to protest what _definitely_ did happen the first time Jamie met Tyler’s oldest dog. “Within five minutes of meeting that dog, you were trying to come up with a way to give him a stable home life with two parents to spoil him.”

There’s a suspicious lack of denial from the area of the sofa.

“Look, it’s fine. I have it on good authority that you aren’t the only one daydreaming about giving Marshall and Cash a two-parent home. So you can sit here on the sofa and pretend that you don’t really want that - which will make everyone you both know miserable - or you can go over there and find out for sure.”

“What if… what if you’re wrong.”

“I’m not.”

“How do you know? This isn’t the kind of thing I can deal with you guessing about, Jordie!” Panic is leaking into Jamie’s voice.

“Jamie, do you trust me?”

“Huh?”

“Do. You. Trust. Me.”

“Yes?”

“Do you really think that I would send you to bare your soul to Tyler if I thought there was the slightest chance that he would say ‘no’?”

Jamie looks a little bit ashamed at that. “No, I guess not.”

“Good. Now, are you going to do it today or are you going to cram it into game day tomorrow?”

“I have to do it now?!”

“You heard Spez, man. ‘Fix it or there will be consequences.’ I, for one, do not want to know what kind of consequences those might be. And, Jamie, I know you were trying to ignore him this morning, but did you _see_ Segs before he left practice? Do you really think he’s going to be playing at his best if he’s that upset?”

Jamie slumps back into the sofa. “No, and I’ll feel worse if I could have prevented that.”

That’s his excessively responsible little brother.

“Exactly. So, I really think you ought to pull yourself together and go over there. Get it over with, so you’ll know one way or the other.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jamie pulls himself up from the sofa. “Hey, Jordie?”

Jordie tips his head back to look at his brother, who really isn’t so little anymore. “Yeah, bud?”

“Stay and make sure I don’t look stupid before I leave?”

“Sure thing, Chubbs,” Jordie grins back.

Jamie smiles a bit shyly at him before heading out of the room.

Jordie makes himself comfortable on the sofa and channel surfs until Jamie comes back in. He’s clearly showered in addition to changing, the optimistic bastard. Jordie can’t even chirp him about that, because he’s too busy laughing.

“Oh my god, where have you been hiding those jeans, Chubbs? Are those things painted on?”

“Shut up, they aren’t that bad.” Jamie’s trying to glare, but he looks too embarrassed to be truly effective.

“Okay, okay, they aren’t painted on, but seriously, why have you not broken those out before? I think we could have prevented the last 36 hours if you’d had those on yesterday instead of those stupid shorts.”

Jamie blushes and flips him off. “I’m going now, okay? Let yourself out.”

“Good luck!” Jordie shouts after him. He waits until the door closes to get up and head for the kitchen. After the day he’s had, he deserves the Thin Mints Jamie thinks he’s hiding in the back of the freezer. He’s really saving Jamie from himself, anyway; it’s the selfless thing to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to save this chapter for a few more days, give myself a little more time to finish the next one (which may or may not be the end because I am no longer in control of this fic). But then I made a deal with the universe about five minutes into the second period of the game tonight against Boston, and apparently the universe wants this chapter posted because HAT TRICK, people. Since I keep my promises, here's chapter two. 
> 
> And just for clarity's sake, 99% of the italics in this chapter are meant to be Jamie's internal monologue. Just wanted to make sure everyone catches that. :D

Normally, Jamie would just walk the few blocks to Tyler’s. By the time the season starts, it’s usually relatively pleasant, and it’s nice to be out in the heat after spending most of your time in a climate controlled icebox. Today is just not cooperating. It feels like a million degrees outside, even if the thermostat in the car only says 35 degrees C. There’s one other reason Jamie’s driving today though; he wants an easy escape route if this all goes to hell.

It takes practically no time before he’s pulling into Tyler’s driveway; a tiny voice in the back of his mind points out how convenient that is. He can hear the dogs barking from inside the house as he shuts the car door behind him. As he walks up to the front door, he debates using his key, but as he steps up to the door, he decides being an asshole to Tyler this morning means he’s lost that privilege, at least for today.

He knocks, even though the whole neighborhood can probably hear the dogs so Tyler has to know someone’s here. He wonders if the dogs know what his car sounds like, if they’re this excited because they know he’s the one standing outside the door. He can’t hear Tyler moving around, but the volume of the dogs cuts off pretty abruptly; Tyler must be standing right inside the door, deciding if he’s going to let Jamie in or not. _Oh god, what if he decides not to open the door. What if your temper tantrum this morning means you’ve fucked this up before you even got to start it?_

The door cracks open just in time to prevent a full blown panic.The door’s barely open wide enough for Jamie to see all of Tyler’s face.

“Hi.” Tyler is quieter and more subdued than Jamie’s ever heard him, even factoring in hangovers and the flu. Jamie’s never been more ashamed of himself.

“I’m sorry. I, just, I’m really, really sorry. I want to explain, but, um, could I maybe do that inside?”

Tyler just stands and looks at him for a minute. Jamie wants to squirm a little, but he makes himself maintain eye contact. He screwed this up, and this awkwardness is the consequence of his own stupid behavior.

Finally, after _months_ of waiting, Tyler pulls the door open and steps out of the way. Jamie pushes past two wriggly dogs, patting both on the head. He waits a bit awkwardly in the hall for Tyler to close the door and lead the way into the house. Tyler points him towards the sofa before detouring into the kitchen. He brings Jamie a bottle of his favorite beer before settling into the recliner across the room with his own. _He keeps your favorite beer in his fridge; you are such an idiot._

Jamie sets the bottle down on the coffee table, takes a deep breath, and dives right in. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole this morning. You didn’t do anything to deserve that, and I’m sorry I let my issue control my behavior and make you feel bad. I don’t… I don’t ever want to make you feel bad, Tyler, and I am just so incredibly sorry.”

He has to stop to breathe, which gives Tyler an opportunity to speak. Tyler leans forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “What was your issue?” He sounds so serious; Jamie forgets sometimes that that’s lurking under the surface.

“I, uh, well, I got a little upset, I guess, at your tweet yesterday. The one to Edelman.”

“Why?”

“Well, um. I didn’t really know, this morning, why I was upset. I’d been thinking about it most of the night, after Jordie told me I was being dumb.” Jamie looks down at the floor. “I didn’t sleep very well, and I still couldn’t figure it out before practice. I got really frustrated about it and took it out on you. It wasn’t until I got home this afternoon that I figured it out.” _Deep breaths; you can do this._ “It really bothers me when you look too much at other people,” he says, glancing back up at Tyler. Tyler’s got this super-intense look on his face, like whatever Jamie’s going to say next is the most important thing he’ll ever hear.

“ ‘Other people’, J?” Tyler’s voice is still quiet, but it’s a better kind of quiet. The kind of quiet for secrets. The kind of quiet for when you’re too close for a louder volume. The kind of quiet for when you don’t want to shatter a moment.

“Yeah.” That came out a lot rougher than he expected. Jamie picks up his beer and takes a quick swallow. The bottle rattles against the tabletop; when he looks down at it, he notices his hands are shaking. “I, uh… I think. Well, I’m pretty sure, but…” _Jesus, Jamie, get your shit together._ One more deep breath. He forces himself to look at Tyler again. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Tyler exhales abruptly and roughly. He puts his face in his hands, his breathing too regular to be anything other than intentional, even if it is a bit shaky. In fact, he looks like he’s shaking all over. Jamie doesn’t have the patience to wait and find out why; he jumps directly into panicking.

“It doesn’t have to be a problem, I mean, I can make it not be a problem. I’m sure you don’t want to have to deal with something like this, but I can not be weird, Ty, I promise, I won’t be weird. We just pretend like we never had this conversation, and it will be fine, okay, it’ll be absolutely fine.”

“Jamie.” Tyler’s voice is a bit muffled still, since he’s talking through his hands, and Jamie can’t quite make out the tone.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Jamie’s had multiple surgeries and any number of hockey-related injuries in his lifetime. He thinks they might have hurt less. Jamie looks down at his hands, fisted together between his knees. He’s not sure how long he’s supposed to sit here. What’s the correct length of time to have to wallow in your embarrassment? And Jordie, shit, Jordie’s going to be so obnoxious about apologizing and feeling sorry for him when all Jamie wants is to forget this day ever happened.

“JAMIE.” Jamie jumps, startled, and looks up at Tyler. Tyler’s looking at him now, clearly amused about having to raise his voice to get Jamie’s attention. How long has he been trying to get Jamie’s attention?

“Jamie, stop panicking.” How does Tyler know he’s panicking? “You’re practically hyperventilating over there, and you need to stop that.” Oh.

As Jamie’s focuses on breathing a little less like he’s been triple-shifting all day, Tyler moves across the room to sit carefully on the coffee table in front of him. Tyler’s still smiling; Jamie hopes that’s a good sign.

“J, I’m not angry.” Tyler says quietly, wrapping his left hand around Jamie’s right wrist, fingertips pressed against Jamie’s suddenly skyrocketing pulse.

“Actually,” Tyler continues in the same tone, through a smile that might legitimately be too big for his face, “I’m really fucking happy right now.”

“What?”

Tyler actually _giggles_. Jamie wonders if this is what whiplash feels like.

“Jamie, I am unbelievably crazy about you. Like, way beyond my vocabulary crazy about you, have been for a while. There might be words, just, I don’t know what they are. But, if you need me to, I will start reading dictionaries until I find them.”

“I, uh,” Jamie’s mouth has gone dry, because his body hates him and wants him to look stupid right now. He has to reach out for the beer bottle Tyler pushed aside.

And then, of course, promptly tips it too fast and dumps most of it on his shirt instead of into his mouth. Tyler falls off the coffee table laughing.

Jamie...would normally be trying to crawl under the sofa to die of embarrassment with some semblance of privacy. But normally he doesn’t have Tyler clutching at his wrist, sprawled across his shins and laughing so hard he’s actually crying. It’s hard to be worried about a beer-soaked shirt with _that_ practically in his lap.

He uses Tyler’s grip on his wrist to tug Tyler up until eventually he’s sprawled mostly on the sofa instead, leaning into Jamie with his forehead against Jamie’s right shoulder. Tyler’s still snickering a bit, and his breath is tickling the exposed skin of Jamie’s arm.

Jamie twists a bit to his right, so that he’s sitting more sideways and leaning into the back of the sofa. If this just happens to put him back at eye level with Tyler, well, Jamie might be slow but he’s not stupid. For the moment, he’s kind of happy to just sit here and look at Tyler. He’s never seen Tyler this happy. He’s glowing. Okay, that might just be the sun setting outside, but the effect is still nice.

“Hey,” Jamie whispers.

“Hi,” Tyler whispers back.

“I’m sorry I’m oblivious.”

“It’s okay; so was I, apparently.”

“Could I, um, could I, shit,” Jamie exhales shakily. “Can I kiss you?”

Just a minute ago - really it was - Jamie was pretty certain that Tyler was glowing, he was that happy. Apparently, there were higher levels of happy for Tyler to reach, because the only description for what happens to his face at that question is “lights up”. Jamie’s got just enough time to think the word _incandescent_ before Tyler leans in to kiss him.

Jamie hasn’t had a lot of time to think about this, really; at least not consciously (he can’t control his dreams, okay, so that’s irrelevant. IT IS.), but this isn’t like he would have expected, if someone had asked him to imagine it. He would have expected Tyler to dive straight into dirty with a pretty obvious objective in mind. He would have anticipated wet and sloppy and way too much tongue way too soon.

This is nothing like that. At all. This is sweet and soft and almost tentative, like Tyler’s not really sure Jamie isn’t going to change his mind about doing this. It’s really nice, it is, but it’s also not nearly enough. Jamie can fix that though.

He takes advantage of Tyler’s distraction and uses the few extra pounds at his disposal to push Tyler back onto the sofa cushions. He lets gravity pull them apart just enough to be able to focus on Tyler’s face. Tyler’s grinning at him, eyes sparkling; he’s about 2 seconds away from a really terrible line. Jamie has split-second flashbacks about “stallions” and “three of a kind” before he decides that now is just _not_ the time for that. Instead, he leans back in to kiss Tyler again, sliding the hand not bracing against the sofa up under Tyler’s shirt.

See, the thing is, Jamie hasn’t had a lot of time to daydream about kissing Tyler, because that’s not the kind of thing you do unless you _know_ you’ve got actual, warm-fuzzy feelings for someone. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t had other kinds of daydreams about Tyler; again, Jamie’s oblivious but not stupid. Or blind. He’s spent what some people might consider an unfortunate amount of time with a less-than-fully-dressed Tyler in the same room. And may have purchased a copy (or six) of ESPN The Magazine over the summer. Possibly. Anyway.

The _point_ here is that on the occasion that Jamie’s had nothing better to do or more recent to think about, he has spent some time imagining how this part of the afternoon might go down. (Shit, now Jamie’s thinking the terrible lines. _FOCUS._ ) There are plans, that’s what he’s getting at. Steps that need to be followed. First among them is getting very personal with Tyler’s stupid abs.

When Jamie finally manages to pull himself away from Tyler’s mouth, it’s Tyler’s turn for breathing like he’s been triple-shifting. Jamie takes some time to feel smug about that - maybe 3 seconds - before using his left hand to push Tyler’s shirt up to catch under his arms. The noise Tyler makes when Jamie puts his mouth on Tyler’s stomach is just a bit too breathy to be considered a moan. It’s almost better than the goal horn.

It’s only when Jamie pulls away a couple minutes later that he realizes the marks he’s left on Tyler’s skin form a very awkward looking “J”. He’s debating the possibility of getting a “B” on the other side when Tyler digs his fingers into Jamie’s shoulder.

“Jamie.” Tyler’s voice is rough and scratchy and the best thing Jamie’s heard all day. “Yours too, Jamie, yours too.” He tugs at Jamie’s collar.

That’s not a bad idea; Jamie’s shirt is still damp with spilled beer, and it’s starting to cling unpleasantly. He leans a little further away to give him room to pull his shirt over his head. Tyler’s hands follow behind, leaving streaks of warmth across Jamie’s chest.

He whispers “Jesus, Jamie,” before wrapping his right hand around the back of Jamie’s neck and pulling him back down.

Jamie loses some time after that. Later, he’ll only remember flashes of the minutes that follow: the pressure of Tyler’s fingers digging into his traps, the sting of Tyler’s beard dragging along his throat, the rumble of Tyler’s moans as he digs his teeth into the join between Jamie’s neck and shoulder, the slide of sweat between them.

The next time Jamie bothers to notice his surroundings, it’s practically dark. The room is dim, lit only by the ambient light of Tyler’s backyard landscape lighting and the faint glow of that one light in the kitchen that Tyler never remembers to turn off. Jamie’s lips are almost numb. When he shifts his weight a bit, there’s a pull on his back that suggests Tyler might have scratched him. Tyler’s been squirming and twitching underneath him for a while now. Jamie’s suddenly very aware of why. He scrambles a bit for his plan. What the hell is he supposed to be doing now?

Right, right, pants. This will be better if those come off. Jamie pushes up onto his knees. Tyler’s spread across the sofa cushions, just shy of gasping for breath. In the dim light, the marks on his stomach blur together into an actual “J”. Jamie brushes his fingers along it, watching as Tyler’s abs twitch at the contact.

Tyler pulls his shoulders up just enough to get his shirt all the way off and flings it over the back of the sofa. Tyler made the better decision to wear sweatpants after practice; he skims them off as well, sliding his left leg out from between Jamie’s knees for just long enough. The sweatpants end up somewhere behind Jamie; from the sounds of it, right on top of one of the dogs.

It’s Jamie’s turn, but he can’t move. This is completely different from naked-in-the-locker-room Tyler or mostly-naked-in-print Tyler or even wandering-around-basically-naked (because gym shorts don’t count) Tyler. He didn’t really factor this into his “planning”. _And this is a Tyler you can barely see. You’re fucked if you ever get around to doing this with light._ But Jamie’s good at adapting to unexpected situations, so he pushes past the awe (or the brain-melting lust, _whatever_ ) to work on getting his pants off as well.

There’s just one problem. While these jeans aren’t exactly “painted on” like Jordie said, they are by far the tightest piece of clothing Jamie owns (that isn’t 15 years old). These are jeans not meant to be taken off A) in a hurry, or B) while kneeling on a sofa.

In a way, ending up on the floor is a good thing. For one, this is a much easier place to wiggle out of these stupid pants. It also seems only fair, since Tyler fell off the coffee table earlier. And honestly, a slight break in the desperation of the past few minutes is probably good, since it gives Tyler an opportunity to lean over the edge of the sofa to look down at him, grinning, and ask, “Do you want to move this to my bedroom?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, this took a lot longer than I would have liked, mostly because I have never written anything like this before and it's surprisingly hard (ba dum tish, you're welcome).
> 
> That being said, I am open to critique if there's something I could have done better!

Jamie’s never been inside Tyler’s bedroom before. For some reason, he was expecting it to look a lot more, well, gross. Jamie’s been 23; it wasn’t his most organized year to date. Tyler’s room, on the other hand, looks like someone decorated it this morning and no one’s had time to mess it up yet.

It’s dim enough (because, of course, Tyler has his bedroom lighting on a dimmer switch, _of course_ he does) that Jamie can’t make out the color of the walls, but it looks like it might be blue. All the furniture is dark, heavy-looking wood. The bedding is a warm brown color and looks obscenely comfortable. And the only reason that Jamie is able to notice any of these details is Tyler is behind him, lightly pushing him toward the bed on the far side of the room. He ends up face down on the bed after a sneaky push-and-trip combination. Before he can move, Tyler’s climbed up to sit on his thighs.

“Jamie,” Tyler says, voice impressively even for a naked person sitting on top of another naked person, “have I ever mentioned to you how much I absolutely _adore_ your shoulders?”

Jamie blushes. He can actually feel it happening.

“I’m serious,” Tyler says, leaning forward just enough to run his hands out along Jamie’s shoulders and down onto his biceps. “These things are _amazing_. I could go on, but.”

Apparently, what he’d rather do than go on talking about Jamie’s shoulders is put his mouth all over them. Jamie’s going to have very interesting teeth marks to explain tomorrow, which is a panic he is going to have LATER. Right now, he thinks Tyler might be trying to write on him with his tongue, and that’s far more urgent. Since he can’t move - what with Tyler basically pinning him at biceps and thighs - he doesn’t have a choice but to lie there and let Tyler do whatever he wants. That sounds a lot better than he might have expected it would, had he ever taken the time to think about _this_. He’s rapidly reaching the conclusion that this was a major lapse in judgment.

It’s probably only a few minutes later that he feels Tyler shift. “Hey, Jamie?”

“Yeah?” He sounds like he’s been gargling with gravel. It’s an almost embarrassing contrast to the smoother, mellow sound of Tyler’s voice.

“Much as I love your shoulders, baby, I think maybe I can finish that later. Turn over for me?”

“Please,” Jamie rasps out.

Tyler shifts off to Jamie’s left side, and Jamie manages to both roll over and move further up the bed without elbowing him in the face. He's barely horizontal again before Tyler’s climbing back on top of him.

He pauses for a second to just grin at Jamie. He's just so ridiculously happy that Jamie can’t help but grin back.

“What do you want?” Tyler asks.

“Uh, anything?” Jamie hadn't ever ranked his choices to narrow down what to do if he ever got a chance. That had been so far from the realm of possibility that it wasn't worth the effort. “Really, Ty, anything you do is going to be more than I ever imagined I'd get.”

“Imagined, huh?”

_How are you blushing right now?_

“I might not have been aware that I was in love with you, but I'm not blind.” Jamie’s going for snarky, but he’s pretty sure he landed more on embarrassed.

Tyler looks far too pleased about this revelation. “So, what did you imagine most?”

Jamie thinks back to the thousands of times he's been distracted - at home, on the ice, in the locker room, in front of reporters and staff and complete strangers - and blurts out, “Your hands.”

That earns him a downright filthy grin. “Doing what?”

_Jesus Christ, he's seriously trying to kill you._

“Anything you can imagine. I've been thinking about this a lot.”

“How about you just tell me if I get anything wrong?”

“Okay,” Jamie gasps. It's sort of hard to think with Tyler’s hand wrapped around his dick. _For fuck’s sake, stop with the puns._

Jamie’s watched Tyler do a lot of things with his hands over the last couple years. He _knows_ how dexterous they are. But it’s one thing to know something as a fact, and another thing entirely to experience it. He can’t even focus on one sensation at a time.There’s _warm_ and _friction_ and a spike of _something else_ as Tyler bites down on his collarbone. There’s a hint of _light-headed_ since it doesn’t feel like his lungs are working anymore. His fingers are starting to cramp where they are clutching at the bedding, his toes couldn’t possibly curl up any further, and when Tyler breathes “Fucking hell, Jamie” down his throat, he gets totally lost in the flood of sensation.

When he manages to peel his eyes open, some indeterminate amount of time later, he finds Tyler sprawled mostly on top of him, tracing abstract patterns across his chest with his fingertips. He must twitch because Tyler looks up at his face, resting his chin on Jamie’s sternum.

“Welcome back.”

Jamie can’t even be annoyed about the self-satisfied expression. If he’d just done to someone what Tyler had done to him, he’d be pretty damn pleased with himself as well. He takes a couple of shaky breaths.

“Holy shit, Tyler.”

Tyler chuckles. “How did that compare to your imagination?”

“No comparison whatsoever.” Jamie runs his hand down Tyler’s spine. He can feel the goosebumps springing up under his fingers. “Can I, what can I do for you?”

Tyler shudders against him. “You’re not the only one who’s been daydreaming about someone’s hands. I’m not even sure how much you’re going to need to touch me, I’ve been thinking about this for so long, Jamie, please.”

_Note to self: begging is a good look on Tyler._

“Yeah, yeah, anything you want.” Jamie manhandles Tyler over onto his back. He leans up on his right elbow for balance as he kisses Tyler, mostly because he can do that now.

Tyler is already breathing harder, twitching just a bit, when Jamie pulls away. He slides his left hand down Tyler’s chest and lets it come to a stop over Tyler’s navel. He doesn’t move for several long seconds, waiting to see if how long Tyler will wait before begging. It’s not long.

“Fucking hell, Jamie, _please_.” Rough and ragged, this is a completely different voice than Tyler was using even moments ago. It’s Jamie’s turn to be smug. But he’s not quite done teasing.

When he finally moves his hand, it’s to drag his fingertips slowly down the top of Tyler’s thigh, as far as he can reach. He waits for a beat or two before drawing them back up the inside, brushing lightly against the sensitive skin.

“Goddammit, Jamie, baby, _please_ , please I can't, oh my god.”

That's what he’s been waiting for. He holds his hand up to Tyler’s face. “Lick.”

Tyler’s eyes slam shut as he shakes. He takes a couple of tremulous breaths before he pulls Jamie’s hand in towards his mouth. He opens his eyes just as his tongue makes contact with Jamie’s palm. The combination of eye contact and skin contact is almost overwhelming for Jamie, and he’s already come. He can’t imagine how much worse it is for Tyler. It’s definitely time to stop teasing him.

Jamie pulls his hand away from Tyler’s grip, and leans in to kiss him again. He waits Tyler wraps his arms up and around Jamie’s shoulders before reaching down to wrap his hand around Tyler’s dick.

He thinks the lip biting is an accident, but it doesn’t really matter. Tyler’s twisted his head away from Jamie, tipping it back into the pillow beneath him. He’s gasping and shaking; one arm has dropped down to twist into the blankets while the other is leaving bruises in Jamie’s traps. It’s by far the hottest thing Jamie’s ever seen in person.

Considering how long he’s been waiting, it’s not much longer before Tyler’s coming all over himself and Jamie’s hand. He sort of melts into the mattress; the hand digging into Jamie’s back releases its grip and falls to rest on the bed. Jamie leans over to press a kiss to his forehead before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

When he returns, Tyler’s eyes are open, but he still looks a little dazed. He visibly pulls himself together as Jamie climbs back onto the bed.

“Hi.” He sounds almost shy, even as he’s taking a damp towel from Jamie to wipe himself down.

“Hey there,” Jamie says with a chuckle.

“That was pretty awesome.”

“Good.”

“No, like, that was amazing, and why have we not been doing that for, like, forever?”

“Because we’re stupid? That’s what I hear, anyway.”

Tyler laughs as he throws the towel back towards the bathroom. “Yeah, I guess.”

Just as Jamie’s starting to think the silence is getting awkward, Tyler looks him right in the eye again.

“Do you, um,” he swallows audibly. “Would you like to stay?” He’s so much braver than Jamie, _thank god_.

“Yes,” Jamie says, before Tyler’s even had time to finish. “Yes, I want to stay.”

“Good.” Tyler beams at him. “I should probably go deal with the dogs, but, uh, don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be right back. Like, seriously, don’t go away.”

“Not going anywhere, Tyler. I promise.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4/Epilogue to follow!!!
> 
> And if you want to talk to me more about this, or stupid hockey players, or a number of other things, you can find me at leyley09.tumblr.com or @leyley09 on Twitter. :)


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys, I can't even begin to thank you enough for all the kudos and the comments. This thing took on a life of its own, and even I'm surprised where we ended up. I'm kind of sad this particular story is done, but fortunately I have other things to move on to. :D
> 
> And, consider yourself warned: this epilogue may have given my ever-encouraging beta Ceruleandarkangelis diabetes. Be prepared for an abundance of fluff.

Jamie is awoken Tuesday morning by a cold, wet nose to the ankle sticking out from the edge of the blanket. He’s laying on his back, right foot hanging off the edge of the bed. Tyler’s plastered against his left side, face pressed against Jamie’s pec, arm slung across his stomach, legs all tangled together.

Jamie turns his head to the right to find two sets of big, brown eyes peering hopefully over the edge of the mattress at him. He can’t help his big, stupid grin.

“Hi boys,” he whispers. Tails wag enthusiastically in response. “Your dad’s still sleeping, so we have to be quiet.”

He inches his way out from underneath Tyler, until he’s finally clear of the bed, and leaves Tyler sprawled across the mattress. He follows the dogs down the stairs and out into the backyard.

It’s going to be another sweltering day, but for now it’s still tolerable in the shade. Jamie’s laying in the grass, pinned underneath both Cash and Marshall and laughing as he’s being covered in slobber, when Tyler finds him nearly an hour later. Jamie doesn’t notice him until he hears the “shutter” of Tyler’s phone camera.

Tyler looks… Jamie doesn’t even have words for how Tyler is looking at the three of them right now. “Fond” barely scratches the surface. Tyler walks out into the yard, smiling down at Jamie.

“I really, really hate to interrupt this, but we need to get moving. Game today, you know.”

Jamie grins. “Oh yeah, I think I vaguely remember that.” He sits up, dislodging both dogs. “Okay boys, your dad and I have to get to work.”

He untangles himself from the dogs and is headed towards the door when he hears Tyler.

“You boys be good tonight, and your dad and I will take you to the park tomorrow before we leave, okay?”

There’s more baby-talking gibberish after that, but Jamie’s so hung up on “your dad and I” that he’s not even sure he’s breathing correctly for a minute.

“You okay?” Tyler asks, suddenly right in front of him.

“Yeah, uh, just, ‘dad’? Really?”

“Is that, is that okay?” Tyler bites his lip.

“Oh my god, Ty, ‘is that okay’.” Jamie straight up giggles. “Yes, it’s okay, jesus.”

“C’mon, J,” Tyler grins and slugs him in the arm. “Let’s get to practice.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Driving into the arena is so much like any other day that Jamie quite literally forgets that he and Tyler were, um, a little carried away with their teeth last night ( _among other things_ ). It’s not until he peels his shirt off in the room that he remembers, and that’s only because of the reaction.

He hears a piercing wolf whistle from across the room. “Damn, Bennie,” Sharpy chuckles, “who got their claws into you last night?”

Jamie freezes. _Shit, shit, shit_. He’s got absolutely nothing prepared to say to that.

The hall door opens, and the voices of Tyler and Jordie drift into the room. Tyler’s pulling his shirt off before he clears the hallway, which admittedly saves Jamie from answering Sharpy’s question, but only because Tyler’s sporting a nearly solid set of bruises on his stomach in a very crooked ‘J’.

The silence is slowly becoming a physical resident of the room.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Tyler jerks his head over to look at Demers. “What?”

“Did you run into a very interestingly shaped object, Segs?” He gestures wildly at the bruises.

_Oh my god, Tyler’s blushing_. Jamie didn’t even know that was possible.

The silence is broken, no, no, the silence is _shattered_ by Jordie’s laugh. He’s practically cackling, almost wheezing, and those might be tears running down his face. Everyone present looks from him directly at Jamie.

Jamie’s never been able to figure out how some people can control their blushing. He missed that lesson somewhere, and he’s paying for it now. He’s refusing to make eye contact with anyone, but he has no doubt that his face could replace the goal light right now.

“Damn, Bennie,” Kari yells from across the room. “No one had today in the pool!”

Jamie peeks at Tyler carefully. He’s laughing along with everyone else, but he’s watching Jamie. There’s an edge of nerves to his laughter that Jamie doesn’t like.

_Tyler was brave last night. It’s your turn._

“I’m pretty sure that means the winnings are mine,” Jamie yells back. “I’m gonna need those; got a hot date tomorrow.” He winks at Tyler, who blushes _again_ but just fucking beams at him. The whole team groans; someone’s sock bounces off his back.

“Dammit, you guys,” Jason grumbles, “I had Thursday. You couldn’t have waited?”

“Nope,” Jamie smiles, eyes locked on Tyler’s. “Already waited long enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks, as always, to ChelseaIBelieve for reading as I go and yelling "MORE" at me with heart emojis.
> 
> I adore how much of this fic I didn't have to make up.


End file.
